Tears of justice served... A powerful poem that was contributed for publication on this site...

Poem Submitted and Published (Exactly as Submitted / With Permission) by One of This Blog's Readers / Posters:

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"tears of justice served
are prisms of perspective unnerved
where the tiny lachrymal crystals
cleanse our souls and baptize our brains
out of attempted brainwashing basins
to the ether of eternity
in the uppermost mindful section
where the Almighty was conceived
in either of our respective images
whether we got the message from our Creator
and were endowed with sacred or inalienable rights

or if we invented this entire anthropomorphic notion

in created likenesses or icons or legends

in graven myths or in some misbegotten reality--
we as a nation not of sheep on the compost heap
but as sentient thinking humans must right the wrongs
left on our bloodstained hearts by Bush
by bringing him to court and letting the people decide

whether what he did was just or just another genocide.

So I say to our father who art an artist in heaven

hallowed be thy brush and please

relegate the former commander-in-cheek

to places where he’s only clearing brush

banished in another world in a spot where it’s

as de facto as it gets

and without him thinking he’s a factotum

this ex-commander-in-sheik in crony clothes

with no visions of a burning bush

or of him hanging Saddam-like

none of this will suffice for what he’s done

as we and the little children suffer right ahead

by each and every child left behind

as Iraqi, or Afghani or American orphans

who suffer endlessly needlessly

or as the widows on the streets internally displaced

are wandering through their nation’s occupation

without an occupation without a home in the world

predisposed to grief and sorrow and hunger

with thanks again to Bush—

so may all the shoes that fit the print in your crime scenes

leave their footprint-- their mark on your forehead

to distinguish you amongst your peers

as the worst of the worst

in the shadow of the best which is yet to come

because no one else could ever sink

to the depths where you’ve managed to crater

by thinking you were the administrator—

better as a caricature for the animator

or the bone yard obituary illustrator and on and on...."



by Paul Werbalowsky (alias Pinchas Werba)

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Respectfully posted (Thank You) by,

NS